


Timeless

by Luckyfirerabbit



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Modern Setting, demisexual striga, morana lovingly getting the strap, soft praise kink, they're married your honor, they're soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:55:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29514945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luckyfirerabbit/pseuds/Luckyfirerabbit
Summary: Just the vampire wives having some fun at home in the modern day.
Relationships: Morana/Striga (Castlevania)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Timeless

Striga watches Morana like a hawk as she climbs up onto the bed, their naked bodies framed in shades of gold from the gentle glow of electric light. Her inhuman heart pounds beneath her ribs as she settles with her back against the headboard, and she wets her lips with a quick pass of her tongue for easily the tenth time. Her big hands hover, waiting to hold something, immediately smoothing over Morana's bare, rich brown thighs when they frame her hips. It's stabilizing, grounding, helps Striga keep tabs on how real this is as she meets Morana's pale blue eyes and swears she leaves her body for all of a second.

Morana looks down at her, casting a deceptively soft smile. She's perched comfortably on her knees, not settling just yet, and she eases her palms across Striga's toned belly, first upward to briefly palm her breasts, and then down to splay across the spread of her hips.

"You're sure you do not wish to take charge?" she asks again. "You look ready to spring like a trap."

"I'm," Striga swallows, her gaze breaking down towards Morana's navel and then back up. "I am merely eager to see...how you like it."

"I don't doubt." her smile turns cat like with a breathy chuckle. "But your ideas have yet to disappoint, my love, and I'm sure this will prove just as...pleasurable."

The smile Striga gives in response is uneven, cracked on the edge of a fang, but Morana accepts it all the same. She knows how Striga is about these things; everything had to meet Morana's approval, until then Striga couldn't really relax or fully enjoy herself.

"It's better you lead for now, until you are comfortable." Striga reiterates, harkening back to earlier discussions of this.

Striga is watching her again, wide-iris eyes settling where her hips slowly sink to press against her own. Her breath hitches at the pressure, Morana's tentative weight enough to nudge the tapered column of silicone between them. She thinks back to minutes ago, feeling shy and ridiculous about wearing it, and then how seeing the look in Morana's eyes -the hunger and intrigue- stilled her mind like nothing had in a _long_ time. Then that thought scatters as Morana adjusts her position again, inching up just enough to test the slide of the toy between her folds. Striga can't stop her mouth from dropping open, though no sound emerges. Something electric arcs across her nerves, something sharp pulsing from her core where a piece of the toy is secured by her own tight muscles. Striga has never been one to like penetration, but this...this was for Morana. It's fine. Instead she focuses on the way Morana's eyes close languidly, her head dipping back as she sucks a breath between her teeth.

"Is that good?" Striga asks dryly, swallowing again.

"Mmm." it's a sound Striga knows and finds comfort in. Morana's hips cant again, more deliberately and with more weight -another sharp breath, and Striga's head drops back against the wood behind her. "Does this - _mmm_ \- do anything for you?"

Striga pants. "Seeing you like this certainly does." another fragmented smile. "As for the feel...hard to say."

Morana pauses, certain she has her wife's attention. "You will stop me if it doesn't feel right, won't you?"

"Of course." a jerk of a nod. "Now, please," a little pinkness flushes her usually pale cheeks. "I think I like watching you."

Morana brightens up at the confession and obeys, resuming a gentle roll. After a moment she eases forward, taking a little more between her legs with a whimper and pushing her hands over Striga's belly again -it's so soft, sometimes all Morana ever wants is to rest her head there and sleep. Instead she cranes her neck and reaches for Striga, the two meeting in a kiss that is half feverish, half yielding. That yielding turns into its own hunger as Striga's powerful hands slip upward along Morana's thighs and take eager handfuls of her ass. Morana reacts with a yelp and a nip, that secure grip pushing her a little harder onto the toy.

Striga pries away enough to check in. "Are you all right?" and the answer she receives is another hungry kiss, Morana's tongue forging into her mouth without warning and without resistance. Morana's hips are grinding slowly, but harder, and Striga rumbles as each downward stroke nudges the toy against her clit.

"I'm ready." Morana pants hotly.

"Already?"

"You recall tending to me rather thoroughly beforehand, don't you?"

"I do, but, _mercy_ woman," Part of Striga wants to laugh, but thinks better of it. "You really want this," and it's a tone of awe that Morana swallows up with a noise of confirmation.

Striga does her best to focus, to split her attention enough to remember there's a proper way to do all this. She both loves and hates the needy sound Morana makes when she breaks their kiss and pulls one hand away, reaching for the little bottle on the bedside table. Morana retreats and straightens on her own, giving Striga an unobstructed view of the beautiful flush in her face and chest, the vicious, glinting hunger in her eyes.

"Patience, wife, this is for your comfort's sake." Striga reminds her softly.

"And what of your comfort, love?"

"I am comfortable enough." Now that they have begun, that it's clear Morana is enjoying herself, she is indeed feeling more secure. Striga pours a small dollop of lubricant between her thumb and forefinger, spreading briefly before smearing it across the head and shaft of the toy. All the while she has her eyes on Morana, countless nameless notions passing between them like electricity between wires. Then those sable brows rise as she sets the bottle back on the table. "No need to rush, yes? We have all night,"

Morana nods quickly, an anxious sort of growl there and gone again and drawing the littlest laugh from Striga. They've been together this long and Morana still can't hide her restlessness in bed.

Striga has her by the hips, not so much guiding or aiding Morana in any way, but more so to keep herself grounded. She's getting that out of body feeling again as Morana positions the flared head of the toy against her slick folds and starts to sink down again. Striga's eyes flit up to her face as her mouth drops open with a gasp, and now she watches for any sign of discomfort. She'll find nothing but degrees of mounting bliss, so enveloped in it that Striga forgets to breathe. Not that it mattered.

Morana lets Striga take all of her weight when she settles their hips together again. Part of her is rather surprised and impressed to have taken it to the hilt on the first attempt, considering they had never done anything like this before. The rest of her mind is fractured around such _deep_ stimulation that all she can do is breathe and feel it for a moment.

"Morana?"

"A-a moment, please."

"Does it hurt?"

"No." it feels like everything _but_. "I am fine, I promise."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, love, but just a moment." Because she _swears_ she can feel the gentlest pulse of Striga's heart between them and her mind doesn't know what to do with the idea. Then she takes a deep, measured breath, completely relaxing as the last of the air leaves her lungs.

"May I touch you at least?"

Without a word, Morana scoops up Striga's wrists and presses her big, safe hands to her breasts, earning a little chuckle. It's a familiar sensation that helps bank the stark contrast of these new depths, helps Morana settle a little easier, and she can feel the need to buck her hips again as Striga's thumbs gently roll her nipples.

"Go ahead." Striga rumbles. "We go at your pace." Then she drags her hands, the blunt of her nails down Morana's belly, loving the way she groans and bows into it, before letting them cuff her thighs again.

The first testing rise and fall pulls breathy groans from both of them, and when Morana settles back into place they look at each other with equal awe and interest at how _good_ that felt. This time they hold eye contact for the next cautious motion, grinning at each other when their eyes flash in the same way. Striga's hands rise to Morana's hips as Morana eases into a steady rhythm.

From there, Striga couldn't take her eyes off of her, at least not until she felt a terrible emptiness in her mouth that could only be sated by Morana's breast. She keeps her lips and tongue gentle, and lets all the sensation she feels translate into her gripping hands; each downward press of Morana's hips has the base of the dildo nudging her clit in a way she isn't used to but doesn't hate. She rumbles contentedly at Morana's hands in her hair, loves the surge of goosebumps across her body.

The entirety of Morana's consciousness has collapsed around her, leaving nothing but this room, Striga, and the sensation crackling through her. She's never felt full like this before or touched so deeply -to say nothing of Striga's _more_ than capable hands- and that alone feels like its own experience. When you live forever, at some point you're convinced that nothing is new anymore, then something like this comes along and blindsides you and _oh god that is so good_. She begins to buck her hips with a little more insistence, her brow drawn tightly like her throat around keening mewls. She's wanting to chase that feeling, that tightening coil in her womb, and isn't thinking straight when she puts her hands to Striga's big shoulders and shoves. Striga hits the pillows with a puff of air, eyes wide and bright as Morana leans over her, hips now churning at an almost frantic pace.

Striga knows those eyes, knows the want in them, and can only think to help. She clutches Morana's hips firmly in her hands, keeping her wrists loose so as not to break her rhythm, and thrusts upward to meet Morana's downward press. Morana tenses and gasps so beautifully at the punctuation of their meeting that Striga stops and flexes her hands to stop her wife from moving as well -part of her wishes she could freeze this moment and remember it forever.

"A-again," Morana pants, "do that again, love."

Striga obeys, still watching her as she lifts Morana up, and brings her down on her own rising hips with a jolting _pop_ of skin to skin. Another sharp gasp, shorter but still lethal talons threatening Striga's flesh, and a breathless " _again_ ." Striga complies, happily, but doesn't stop with just one. She searches for a rhythm, watching intently and tracking how each impact looks to wind Morana tighter _tighter_ _**tighter** _...

"Don't stop," Morana rasps, arms trembling as she braces against Striga's chest, a breath away from buckling.

Striga rumbles, grinning wide enough to show fangs as she continues, adding the slightest extra effort to the rise of her hips. Mercy, Morana is so beautiful like this -the flush of her skin, the shimmer of sweat, the helpless ecstasy on her face, all things Striga wished to drown in. Just as she wishes to drown in the way she shakes, her body bending around an abrupt and powerful climax, and the tight, keening cry that cuts the air. Striga holds her still, holds them tight together, silently marveling at the gentle pulse she can feel through the toy as Morana's muscles clench around it.

Striga feels Morana steadily relaxing, sinking boneless into her embrace and coaxing her large but ever gentle hand to softly stoke up and down her spine. Striga kisses what she can reach, little blessings across Morana's collarbones and neck as her wife pants into her hair. Then Morana's hands frame her face and tip her head back, giving her leave to kiss Striga soundly, with a flavor of gratitude.

When they part, Striga feels a beautiful haze scattering, a warmth that spools out and lets her attention pull back together. "How are you, my love?"

"That was so good," it's almost a whine, almost a laugh.

"Are you ready for more?"

" _Please_."

It's too easy to keep hold of Morana, to stay inside of her while Striga pulls her legs up and under herself, shifting effortlessly onto her knees. Morana squirms and whimpers, the dildo shifting and pressing deeper still as gravity pulls on her. Striga lets her feel it for now.

"Remember when I first held you this way?" Striga purrs, loving the slow, trembling smile Morana makes -her eyes are closed and her head lists dreamily, blissful and broken.

"How could I forget one of the most incredible nights of my life?"

"Well," Striga huffs a little laugh. "I recall a week in Karaganda that-"

Morana quickly snaps to the here and now, giving her wife unwavering attention as she presses a shushing finger to her grinning lips. "That we agreed _never_ to mention _again_." And as serious as she tries to be, it cracks under Striga's playful smile and a kiss to the tip of her finger. "Cheeky heathen."

"Yes, but I am _your_ cheeky heathen." another peck to her wife's finger in the second before Morana withdraws. "Forever."

Morana softens, something like a smirk toying at the corner of her swollen lips. "And not a moment less."

They're kissing again, less hungrily but no less lovingly, and Striga slowly, with every ounce of control her powerful frame can muster, lists forward to lay Morana down and settle over her. She happily swallows the shuddering whimper that rattles out of Morana as her hips press down with her full weight, burying the toy to the hilt if not further. Morana's talons drag across Striga's shoulder blades, just shy of drawing precious blood. Striga shifts in response, not too quickly, working to snatch Morana's wrists in her hands and press them to the bed. Blue eyes open wide with the pop of skin to linens, pitch pupils flexing with anticipation. Anticipation that sharpens, brightens as Striga works both wrists into one hand and holds securely.

Now Striga is still, propped on her elbows and taking a moment simply to admire the beautiful creature willingly pliant beneath her; the way the messy waves of Morana's hair catch the light, the way her eyes do in greater clarity, just the way Morana always looks like everything Striga wants to remember until the end of time.

These moments Striga thinks that if it should come to pass that death comes for her, may it do so wearing the guise of her wife, that it might be welcoming.

"My love," Morana keens, bowing gently upward as her legs tighten about Striga's waist, heels pushing into the small of her back. " _Please_ ,"

Striga nuzzles her throat and kisses upward, over her chin to her lips. She licks and nips, a silent request, and Morana yields to let her tongue inside. The slick roll of her tongue mimics the first cautious pitch of her hips, and she loves the way Morana tenses and gasps. She does it again, and again, steadily easing into a rhythm and realizing that it's doing something for her. Not necessarily the same that it's doing to Morana, but something worth noticing. Striga wonders if she could climax this way, wonders what finding out might entail.

"More, Striga," Morana begs, breathless, thighs tensing in time with Striga's movements to encourage her. " _Harder_ ,"

"You're sure?"

"Yes,"

"I don't want to hurt you." and it's a worry that's only partly squelched as she feels Morana earnestly resisting against the secure grip she has on her wrists. Striga watches her writhe, something like her impatience manifesting in tensing muscles and an upward press of her chest.

" _Fuck me_."

Oh. So _that's_ what she wanted.

So be it.

Striga sees to her good lady's demand in stages, refusing to take these matters too quickly. It begins in kisses she knows Morana will recognize for what they are; they're claiming and edged with fangs, sharp assurances just shy of _devouring_ . They're silent declarations writ in the smallest bit of blood from Morana's lip - _you are mine, you belong to me, and I will have you. All of you._ Carnal edicts that Morana gladly submits to.

With Morana's bottom lip trapped between her teeth, Striga starts heavy rolls of her hips, gauging the pace with her wife's reactions. She doesn't pull out much at all, preferring to stay nestled nice and deep, but she knows there's just enough motion, enough friction, to beckon a response. When her whimpers and shakes start to subside, Striga ups the ante, either with greater speed or pressure, until Morana is helplessly writhing again. Eventually Striga's bracing on her hands, needing to lift up for proper leverage, and the view from up here is breathtaking. Now there's the distinct snap of skin meeting skin, and she can feel the added stimulus keying her a little higher, her core clenching deliciously. Striga ups the pace again, now chasing this for herself as well.

Striga knows Morana is close now, knowing her wife's body and its tells almost as well as her own, but she also knows that Morana isn't _quite_ there _yet_ . Not where she _wanted_ her to be -not close enough to _shattering_. Easy enough to rectify.

Striga releases Morana's hands for the moment, perching on her knees long enough to take Morana's thighs and move them to rest against her broad shoulders. She meets Morana's eyes, finding them wider with anticipation, and answers the look with a smirk as she settles forward again. Morana's body bends beautifully beneath her, her mouth dropping open with a slowly drawn gasp at the tightening pressure in her core. Then the air in her lungs is gone, like any thought she might have had, as Striga starts with powerful, steady thrusts. She fights to hold Striga's gaze, knowing Striga loves watching her, but the sharp sensation besetting her from all sides makes it feel delightfully impossible. The suffocating pressure of her wife's body, the flexing of her muscles and the tangible weight of her presence, is everything Morana could ever want.

Striga gives one last, particularly hard thrust, Morana's body jolting with the force and releasing a cracked whimper, before she bends down to kiss her with a surprising tenderness.

"Hands behind your back, woman." She growls, her powerful arms already starting to work around Morana's trembling frame as she fights to find the cognition to obey.

Morana just manages to fulfill the simple request as she feels herself lifted up from the mattress again, crossing over the small of her own back just in time for Striga's hands to quickly snatch her wrists. Now her knees hook over Striga's elbows, all her weight pressing their hips together, and all Morana's trust on the secure hold of Striga's arms. Those big hands of hers might leave bruises, and Morana hopes they do and that she gets to see them before they heal.

Striga keeps her close, their noses almost touching, panting, heated breaths intermingling in the perilously small space between them.

"Still all right?"

Morana's answer is a wordlessly broken noise and a nod.

"Look at me." she waits until she sees glistening pale blue again. "Words."

"Y-yes."

"Good." she offers a little kiss that Morana tries to chase when she pulls away. "Still want me to fuck you?"

" _Yes_ ," it's akin to sob, and she drives her need home with an attempt to roll her hips, but she can't. She's helplessly, blessedly trapped.

Striga kisses her again, this time lingering, their lips brushing as she whispers. "Just like this? Holding you?" Another kiss, swallowing the mewl that was likely meant to be an answer. "Hm?"

"Please, love, take me now,"

"Hmm," one more kiss coupled with a throaty purr. "As you wish."

As before, Striga builds it up in steady increments. Slow, but this time deep strokes that have Morana writhing in her arms as best she can. Striga marvels at the easy bounce of her wife's body against hers, the impact nudging her closer to her own climax, and marveling at the faint coolness of slick on her thighs that she's only partly certain is her own.

Increasing the pace and force has Morana tensing, curling inward and babbling in a language that Striga knows but doesn't have the capacity to bother translating. Morana's tone is enough to convey intent, and that's all that matters. Soon enough her thrusts are relentless, jarring, and the solid cracks of skin against skin echo in the bedroom. The only thing louder is Morana's ecstatic cries.

Morana feels as though her mind is about to break, her body along with it, and she's ready. She's eager. She wants to fall to pieces, knowing and trusting Striga to cradle her fragments and put them back together. Because shattering is so sweet with her, but not nearly as sweet as tender reparation.

Through it all Morana can feel and hear the gravely rumble in Striga's chest. Is she close too? Oh, that would be wonderful, to break together. She acknowledges the sweat-dappled tightness in Striga's brow as she works tirelessly to bring Morana to the brink and over. But those beautiful lips are starting to flare as well, fangs catching the light with a gold-pearl flicker. Maybe, just maybe...

Morana tucks her chin, makes certain Striga is giving her full attention, and cuts a felid grin. "You feel so good, my love. You're perfect."

Striga groans, her stalwart rhythm stuttering, her stable base faltering. There it is.

"So good," Morana whimpers; her core is starting to clench, right on the cusp. "I love the way you fuck me."

"Ah, Morana!" a choked, helpless exaltation.

"Won't you come for me? You're so beautiful when you come,"

" _Morana_!"

Somehow it's enough; three powerful, hilting thrusts are enough to send them both crashing. Striga sinks back to sit on her heels, still holding Morana tightly, face tucking against her neck with hot, heaving breaths spilling across her chest. Morana is boneless in her wife's arms, relishing in the aftershocks of her climax and the vestiges she could feel of Striga's through the toy between them. She's just able to twist her hands free, and immediately puts them to Striga's hair once she finds the clarity to do so. At a glance she can spy the beautiful red marks in the shapes of the pads of Striga's fingers.

Morana kisses the top of Striga's head before resting her cheek against the same spot. "You were magnificent."

Striga shivers with a stuttering sound. "God, woman. A moment, please," and there's a laugh dangling off the end of her breathy plea. "Save your sweet words until I'm back in my head again."

"But I love what they do to you." Another kiss against raven tresses. "And so do you."

"True enough." she relents with a grunt, readjusting her hands as well as herself to gently lay Morana on her back again. "I take it you are satisfied?"

Morana takes a moment to simply look up at her, admire the fleeting flush in her pale skin, the last few seconds that she can see Striga's freckles before they fade. She pushes hair behind her long ears, nudges sweaty curls from her forehead. "Quite, love. Thank you."

Striga closes her eyes with a languid sigh, nudging Morana's nose with her own. "Good. I'm glad."

"What for us now?"

"I was thinking a bath, perhaps some wine." a beat passes. "And take-out, once we're decent."

"You know we've never been decent." Morana smirks.

"Well, then when we have clothes on again." A quick smile followed by a quick kiss. "What do you say?"

"Sounds delightful, especially the bath."

"Then I shall see to it." one last kiss, and then Striga carefully, _so_ carefully, withdraws. There's something electric about the little whimper Morana makes as the dildo slides free, something that puts goosebumps across Striga's skin. She contemplates asking Morana to make her come again, maybe in the bath, but thinks again as she works the toy out of herself -that sensation wasn't particularly pleasant.

"Did you enjoy it at all?"

Striga feels a little surprised by the question, not that it came, only that it came so suddenly. "Not in the way you did." she answers frankly. "I got more out of watching you."

Morana rolls onto her side, humming with a sort of curious acceptance. She watches Striga cross the room, disappearing into the adjacent bathroom. The sound of rushing water soon cuts the quiet of both rooms, settling Morana a little further, pulling her out of her afterglow in a way she doesn't really like. She needed to be held, petted, so she takes it upon herself to rise from the bed and join her wife.

Morana finds her before the mirror, hands in her hair in the process of gathering it in a bun. She lingers in the doorway to watch Striga's muscles play beneath her skin in the warm lights, faintly remembering a time before when mirrors didn't cast their reflections. Morana then thinks that beautiful, silvery skin would look better with her hands on it, so she smoothly crosses from carpet to tiles and to her wife's side, splaying her palms over her taught belly.

Striga smiles, quietly admiring those dark hands roaming across her midriff as she finishes pulling her hair into a rough, messy bun. Checking the reflection, she catches Morana's eyes, her sable brows cocking unevenly. "What is it?"

"Just thinking." Morana answers plainly. Her eyes drop to the space beside the sink, where the now cleaned toy rests. "Thank you for sharing that with me."

Striga's cheeks redden briefly, an uneasy smirk. "Honestly, I didn't know how you would feel about it. I think part of me expected you to detest the idea." And, if she were feeling particularly vulnerable, she would admit to still being a little shocked at what they had just done.

"Why so?"

"You're a lesbian."

"So?"

"Well," She meets Morana's eyes again before flitting her own downward.

"There's no man attached to it, so I don't see what it is I'm supposed to detest."

"Ah, that makes sense. So you enjoyed it, then?"

"Indeed, as if you couldn't tell?"

Striga chuffs and turns, bending to kiss her before bending further to scoop Morana up into her arms and carry her to the tub. "Don't change the subject," Morana warns playfully, receiving another kiss and little else. She lets it slide for now as Striga first kneels into the big, half full tub -Morana missed their tub from the castle sometimes, but this one has jets so the longing is brief- then negotiates into a sitting position with Morana comfortably in her lap. She'll wait until the bath is full to their liking and Striga reaches to shut off the water.

But Striga beats her to it, whatever it was she meant to say.

"Suppose I was more so concerned with changing...things between us than whether or not you would enjoy it. I'm always cautious about such things."

"Our love isn't so fragile, dear." Morana strokes the line of her powerful jaw with the back of her hand. "Change can be good."

"True enough." Change could be very good, though Striga always had a certain distaste for it. The turning centuries leading to this moment had been an incredible mixed bag of good and bad -the collapse of empires, the recession of the power of night creatures in general, the advent of technologies that allowed for them to take some of that power back, to continue to thrive- and they had endured. As had their love.

Still, Striga held her relationship with Morana as one holds a priceless treasure; she would never do anything to jeopardize it in any way, so anything she thinks to bring into their world -more appropriately, their bedroom- she keeps close to the chest and treads with caution.

"Still...it's us. I want to be careful."

"I know, and I adore you for it." Morana's kisses the sharp edge of her cheekbone.

Striga swallows a little loudly and clears her throat to cover it up. "And I wasn't sure how you'd feel...seeing me wear that. I admit, I felt a little ridiculous."

"I know that as well. But, rest assured," a dainty finger curls against Striga's chin to guide her to turn, to face Morana and look her in the eye. "You were amazing. You made me feel _so good_ ." She hears the quick, quiet breath Striga pulls through her teeth, feels the tiniest twitch of her muscles at the words of praise. Striga takes a kiss, a demanding thing that Morana isn't meant to chase as much as recognize it for the note of gratitude that it is, which she does. Morana loves how moments like these have always softened Striga, laid bear a part of her that was vulnerable and rare. Something only _she_ was allowed to behold.

When they part, Striga lets her forehead rest against Morana's with a soft sigh. "If there is a god, surely you bear their likeness, even shame it."

"My sweet poet." Morana kisses her again, smiling against her lips. "So what do you suppose we should do for dinner tonight?"

"I was thinking Thai." Striga confesses with but a beat to think. "You?"

Morana takes a little longer. "What about kebabs?"

Striga immediately rumbles and a pleasured smile cuts across her face. "Ooh, that sounds better, let's do that." She gives a little growl and pulls Morana closer. "And _you_ , my beautiful genius, I shall have for dessert."

"Oh?"

"Yes." a little nod, a matter of fact tone. "Because you deserve all the love I want to give, and I think you were particularly stunning tonight. Perhaps I shall take you in front of a mirror that you might see for yourself." And she watches Morana for a reaction, to gauge the prospect of such an indulgence.

Morana casts a playful, teasing smile and hums. "I will consider it." Because it sounds marvelous in theory, in practice...she still needed a minute. "But, for now, I would like to be washed and pampered."

"Of course. As my lady wishes."

But, before she can begin, Morana takes Striga's face in her hands. "I love you, Striga." and kisses her. So soft, so loving that it echoes.

"And I you, Morana. Forever."

Author's Note:  Just for fun, as you do.


End file.
